Lend Me a Hand, Please
by WhyIsTheSkySoBlue
Summary: Sherlock needs a flatmate. John is the only one willing to take the job. AU - John's arm was completely taken off in the war. It used to be serious, but I don't even know anymore, it's pretty crack in these updates I'm writing. And I'm changing the rating...
1. Chapter 1

**For those who were reading this, I edited these because since a few people actually like it, I might as well make it suck a little less. Good summary, bad fic. Hopefully not anymore.**

Of course he wasn't going to admit it, but Sherlock was desperate. Mycroft, instead of sending him money, sent him texts for suitable flatmates..

MH: 'John Hamish Watson' seems to have potential.

Well, by potential, he meant the only one willing to take up the offer.

It wasn't that the place was haunted, or that it was run-down, or too expensive. It was a lovely flat, 221-B Baker Street. However, all three of these things seemed far more appealing than being flat-mates with the anti-social, judgmental freak, psychopath, Sherlock Holmes.

_Knock-knock._

**From a lower part of the door, John must be** **short. Approximately 5'6. His handing is more careful, less calculated. He is not using the hand he favors to knock, his other hand is busy. Probably holding up a flyer with his other.**

Sherlock unlocks the door, meaning to look down a little to see a shorter man, the tip of his head just barely reaching the tip of Sherlock's chin.

John's breathing stops. A blush is completely enveloping his face. His pupil's almost completely conquer his irises. Dayuummmm.

Sherlock doesn't notice any of this, as his eyes are a bit pre-occupied.

John's right arm is missing.


	2. Chapter 2

"John." Sherlock barely whispers, still shocked by the lack of limbs.

John doesn't move. Sherlock nudges John's forehead.

"Huh...?" John mumbles something unintelligible.

"Come along, John."

Sherlock gives John a quick tour throughout the flat and leads him back to the living room.

"So, um-" Sherlock starts.

"You're probably wondering about my arm."

"John, I-"

"I got shot in the army. You can probably guess where..."

John pauses and shuffles his fingers on his knees.

"I was shot in the shoulder, which shattered the bone and burst straight through the subclavian artery and was saved by my orderly, Murray, who brought me safely back to the British lines."

John probably doesn't notice, but his hand instinctively to his bandaged stub.

"When I woke up in the base hospital at Peshawar, they said I lost my arm and sent me home. My leg is also pretty crappy from time to time."

Immediately then, the phone is ringing, Sherlock made it himself.  
(Sherlock says "Girls" and Lestrade says "Not my division")

John bursts into laughter, forgetting the entire speech he just gave and trying to shush himself.

"Yes, Lestrade."

_"You changed your ringtone, right?"_

"Of course, I did."

_"You bastard, you better change it soon or I'll change it for you and shove it up your arse."_

"**Delightful**, so?"

_"So, we've got a job for you."_

"I know you do."

_"So, get over here. Lauriston Gardens, there's a note this time."_

Sherlock hangs up.

"YES! FOOOOOUR SERIAL SUICIDES AND NOW A NOTE! IT MUST BE CHRISTMAS! MRS. HUDSON!"

"YES, DEARIE?"

"COME SAY HELLO TO JOHN. I have to go John, make yourself comfortable, take a nap."

Sherlock sweeps down to the bottom of the stairs, hearing a bit of the conversation between John and Mrs. Hudson when he hears it.

"DAMN MY ARM!"

Sherlock stops, walks up the stairs, and says something he told himself a thousand times not to do. When looking for a flatmate, he hoped to make a friend. He didn't want to be the freak that knew everything about you with one look, _that_ drives people away. He didn't want anyone to know about John because Sally would scare him off and Mycroft would probably kidnap him and bribe him. Screw it.

"Your an army doctor."

"Yes."

"You any good?"

"Very good."

"Seen a lot of injuries then, violent deaths."

"Yes."

"Been in a bit of trouble, to, eh?"

"Of course, yes, enough for a life time, far too much." John is stoic.

"Want to see some more?"

"Oh. God. Yes."

**I edited this, to.**


	3. Chapter 3

Well, yesterday was eventful.

John had been stared at by basically every single person at that police-filled apartment building, confused by Sherlock's babble (which he supposed he ought to get used to since that's how he acted towards everyone), and kidnapped by Sherlock's brother, Mycroft. (which Sherlock sighed at and asked if he took the money, because they could of used it)

So, now John decided to write in a journal. He obviously couldn't write in his blog, yet, too public. However, a journal is nice and private. Oh, except for one drawback. John is right-handed and he is missing his entire right arm. Hahahaha. Ha.**  
**

"I am going to kill him." a voice growls from the laboratory, kitchen, limb storage, or whatever the hell it is.

"What's wrong?" John calls, concerned.

"Mycroft just texted me."

"Wow, I didn't know you hated him that much."

"Well, no, he just..."

"Just, what?"

"He's assuming that we are in a relationship."

John has been considering that.

Why has John been considering that?

Oh my gosh, this is a friend, not a _boy_friend.

Well, he _was _a _boy _and a _friend._

_I am a fucking middle schooler._

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Are you trying to write with your left hand?"

"What other hand would I use?"

"Well, your right handed."

...

"Who told you that?"

"When you first knocked on the door, you were trying to use your left hand to knock, I just-"

"So?"

"What?"

"Your point is?"

"Would you like me to teach you how to write left handed?"

"Aren't you right handed?"

"Well, yes, but I can easily teach you."

John contemplated this.

"Okay."

* * *

John had _almost _drawn a legible circle. Sherlock let out a little laugh.

"Here."

Sherlock gently held John's hand and sent a shock through each other's arms. Both of their faces were warm, but Sherlock covered his smug emotions better, being able to charm John Watson was one of his greatest achievements. Sherlock pushed the feeling away and guided John's hand to create a circle. Perfect. Sherlock pulled his hand back and told John to try again. John was blushing. Sherlock didn't notice that either where he was thinking about what it would be like to kiss John.

Wait.

_What._

"I did it."

Sherlock looked at the paper, unable to meet John's eyes. The paper was covered in lines and squiggles and shapes and a perfect circle.

"Now, try and write the alphabet."

John wrote every single letter, and it was possible to _read._

"I did it."

"You did it."

...

"I DID IT!"

John pranced around like a little girl who just got a pony for Christmas. That's not the most amusing part, though.

John stops, rushes over to Sherlock, and plants the biggest kiss on his lips and when he pulled back, boy, his face.

To sum the night off, there were embarrassed mumbles and both decided just to forget what had transpired...

but I think we both know _that's _not going to happen.

* * *

**I am going to apologize right here for how short the chapters are and about the lack of build up, but I can assure you, they're not going to be admitting anything until way in the end. Which is probably going to be soon, just kidding no. Hahhahaha but yeah no.**


	4. Chapter 4

What was John going to do. He was straight. Not anymore, no use fighting it. Sherlock is good-looking, and that's all John needs for a good lay. Except Sherlock was more than a lay. Which was the hard part. Sherlock was brilliant, exceptional, clever, witty, and he had made John laugh even though he hadn't laughed in years. John thought of Sherlock's sharp cheekbones, his soft lips, his silky raven hair. And how he's gonna fuck that. Awwww yeaaaah.

When it came to Sherlock, however, things were different. Sherlock adored John. He wasn't going to get poetic about it though, because he's not a complete cheeseball. But John's hair _is _a golden softness that shines like the sun (which we do not revolve around, no sir) and everything about his features if just so soft and warm. Except for the fact that John was a sassy lil shit. That was relatively harsh and warm.

In the middle of Sherlock's deep thought, he heard a familiar knock.

"Come in."

In comes John in his red underwear.

"That's what ur gonna b doin, baby."

Sherlock blushes like in the animes and his pants are missing? his weenie is showing!

John cries. Sherlcock is concerned. "why r u so sad?"

"i cant give u a good handjob with my left hand i am right hand"

Sherlock gently trails his delicate fingers down John's left arm.

"You are more than an arm, John." Sherlock says in his deep, velvet voice. "Do you want me, John?"

"Yes." John pants breathlessly.

Sherlock licks a stripe on his palm and grabs John's cock mid-shaft, causing John to gasp. John was standing at the foot of the bed as Sherlock sprawled out his legs as he quickly stroked John. Their eyes met as Sherlock mercilessly pumped John and trailed his other hand to the opening of John's asshole. He rubbed it in circles and John's moans broke into gasps and shuddering. Sherlock stopped and pulled away his hand and grabbed John's hair.

John took the message and got on his knees, this was one activity he didn't have to use hands for. John mouthed to outside of Sherlock's cock and swirled his tongue all around it. Sherlock moaned and kept one of his hands fisted in John's hair as he pumped his cock in motion with John's mouth and played with his nipple. He tugged and pulled and begged John to put all of him in his mouth.

"Please, John, put me in, fucking suck me dry, fuuuck." Sherlock trailed of in a raspy tone. John licked the tip and took all of Sherlock's dick inside of his mouth. He sucked and spit and ran his tongue down the bottom roughly and his teeth gently, causing Sherlock to shout.

"I'm going to cum in your mouth, John, oh, John, John." Sherlock moaned John's name over and over until he came in John's mouth and John let it drip from his mouth and trailed it up to Sherlock's nipple, replacing Sherlock's hand with is hot, cum-filled mouth.

"Do you want to fuck me, Sherlock?" John growled.

Sherlock nodded roughly and put two fingers in John's mouth as John sucked them eagerly. Sherlock started with one finger and then the other and after John stopped sucking Sherlock's nipples, he nodded and mounted Sherlock's cock, still hot from John's mouth. They fucked. It was great.

FIN

**I honestly don't know. I am so sorry, if you want to use the prompt go ahead, one-armed John AU, and send it to me I want to read it. :D**


End file.
